


Behind the Tent

by msemmyjones



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Exhibitionism, Multi, Object Insertion, Orgasm Denial, Orgy, Painplay, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Sex, Voyeurism, pseudo-beastiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:10:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2448143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msemmyjones/pseuds/msemmyjones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles runs away to join the circus. They put him to good use.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the Tent

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lyric "Behind the tent the hired hand tightens his legs on the sword swallower's blade" from Wild Billy's Circus by Bruce Springsteen.
> 
> I've read through this several times, but it is un-beta'd, so sorry for any and all mistakes!

The boy had just shown up one morning.

No one is sure where he'd come from. He talks a lot, but says very little, and they are okay with that. He says he's looking for somewhere to belong. They tell him he can belong to them.

 

Peter is the first to discover the boy's particular talent. That's Peter's specialty, taking someone fresh and blank and cultivating their greatest gifts - it's why he's the Ringleader. Each of his employees - his children, he likes to think of them - were once empty and afraid. But Peter took them in and nurtured them. And look what each one has become.

Peter is proud of his children. And he loves them. More than that, he loves what they're able to give to him. Peter has always known he was destined for greatness, for stardom, and as he stands in the spotlight in the center ring with his children dancing and laughing and singing around him, he knows he is where he belongs. Each one is a master at their craft, and they dazzle and delight their audiences, with Peter the master of them all.

And Stiles is no different. Sure, the boy doesn't perform like the rest. When they first discovered him stowed away in the animal house, lonely and afraid, Peter had very different intentions upon seeing him. Maybe a juggler or a tight-rope walker. Maybe he was a daredevil or magician. But the boy was clumsy and awkward and showed so little promise at all trades Peter tried on him. He had almost been left to rot as nothing more than a hired boy and barker when Peter finally discovered his place.

If Peter is nothing else - and he is many things - he is magnificent on stage. He is a titan, a saint, a god among men. He becomse other worldly and anyone would believe that just being in his presence would make them otherworldly, too. And Stiles wants that, wants to be something more than the wretched boy he is. He is transfixed by Peter's performance, mesmerized by this larger than life man. Until finally, Peter takes notice.

The high from a Big Top performance is always too much for Peter to contain. He's filled to the seams with exhilaration and adrenaline. His body thrives off the energy and love of the audience, of their eyes on him and their cheers for more.

Peter loves to take Stiles right there on the stage in the center ring, the audience out of the Big Top, but still making their way through the Side Shows.

"Can't you imagine it, boy?" Peter pants as his hips fuck into the pliant body beneath him. "Can't you feel them? They're all watching. The seats are filled with men and women, and they love you!"

Stiles always keeps his eyes closed as he is pounded into, so he can see the pictures Peter paints in his mind. He loves to imagine the audience watching him, imagining them gleaning pleasure from his performance. He moans, thinking about them calling his name, cheering as Peter hitches his knees up higher, fucking into him harder. Peter slams past his prostate on a particularly harsh thrust, and Stiles' whole body seizes with pleasure, cum shooting across his belly. "Pleeeease!" he begs, a hot buzzing coursing though his veins as Peter's pace becomes furious. "Uh, uh, uh, uh!" he cries out with every wicked thrust until finally Peter howls out his pleasure, spurting inside Stiles' channel and collapsing on top of the boy.

As his breathing slows, Peter pulls out. One soft hand gently cards through Stiles' hair as the boy's eyelids flutter open. "Such a good show," Peter smirks. With one quick kiss to his forehead, Peter leaves Stiles alone, panting on the floor of the Big Top.

 

While his children would have thought Peter wanted to keep Stiles all to himself, he soon makes it clear that he has no intention of doing so. In fact, he says, nothing would make him happier than to see them wring their own pleasures out of the boy.

It takes some time before one of the others takes Peter's advice. But finally Isaac can stand it no more. Isaac is in love, and though everyone knows, there is nothing to be done about it. Isaac will never have Scott, as Scott belongs to Allison. But Stiles. Stiles he can have.

Stiles is just finishing up feeding the animals when he feels a tug at the back of his shirt. With no words and no warning, Isaac drags him behind the prop tent before dropping to his knees. Stiles isn't sure what was happening, he's never done this before, but Isaac moves swiftly and confidently and in no time has Stiles trousers undone and around his ankles. Before Stiles can even speak, Isaac has opened his mouth and swallowed Stiles' cock down whole.

Stiles' head falls back with a gasp at the pleasure that over takes him. Isaac's mouth is so warm and so wet, and he can take Stiles to the hilt with no trouble at all. He's gotten all the practice he needs as a Sword Swallower in the Side Show. Isaac's lips are soft and firm, and he sucks and slurps and drags Stiles' orgasm from him quickly. But the taste of Stiles' cum is bitter on his tongue, a harsh reminder that this boy is not the one he loves.

Isaac never takes Stiles' cock again after that first day, no longer gives any thought to the pleasure of the body he is using, only demands pleasure for himself. He watches Stiles open himself up and impale himself on Isaac's rod, but offers no assistance or encouragement. Stiles rides him loud and hard, jerking his own cock quickly, sprinting to a quick finish. Isaac never has any interest in a long session, just a quick fuck to tide him over. His face pinches as his climax descends, and with a harsh grip on the boy's waist and a few bitten off grunts, he cums.

Sometimes Stiles cums with Isaac's prick inside him, but if he doesn't it's none of Isaac's concern. If more often than not Isaac is well on his way back to his own quarters by the time Stiles finishes stripping his cock, cumming into the grass behind the tent, naked and alone - well, his pleasure is his own business.

 

The others fall in line quickly after Isaac breaks the ice.

Ethan and Aidan, twin Acrobats, like to keep to the shadows as the crowds make their ways out of the Big Top and down towards the Side Shows. It is here, crawling through the catwalks and the rigging that they watch Peter take the boy. They listen to him crow to their imagined audience, always the performer, and watch little Stiles fall apart at his hands. They love the sounds the boy makes, desperate and greedy, and they know they can pull even more out of him.

When Peter finishes with him, leaving Stiles wrecked and panting on the floor of the center ring, the twins steal over. Peter's fucking always leaves him slightly dazed as he comes down from his orgasm and it's easy to manhandle him over toward the aerial ring. Stiles is pliant and complacent as they string him up, arms tied tightly above his head, feet just slightly lifted off the floor, the perfect height for them.

By this point the world is back in focus and Stiles trembles in his vulnerable state. The twins smirk, sensing his fear, but they do their best to sooth him. "Don't be afraid, Little Brother," they croon into his ears as their lips and fingers explore his soft, naked body. "We're here to take care of you." Bit by bit, Stiles calms, relaxing into their gentle teasing and sweet caresses. The twins work together, twenty fingers mapping out all of Stiles' secret places, those places where their touch will make him do anything. Aidan sucks steadily at the boy's earlobe while Ethan drops to his knees to tongue the crease at the top of his thigh.

Stiles moans wantonly at their ministrations. It takes almost no time at all for him to allow Ethan to hoist his legs onto his shoulders, leaving Stiles with no contact to the ground. With Stiles thus distracted and powerless, Ethan slowly inserts two slick fingers into Stiles' well used channel. He keens at the intrusion, rim sore and sensitive, and squirms in his bonds.

"Little Brother has a present for us," Ethan grins. He straightens, letting Stiles' leg slip from his shoulders to hook over his elbows. Offering his two fingers to Aiden, he says, "Little Brother's all full of cream."

Aiden sucks the two dirty fingers into his mouth hungrily, slurping off all of Peter's cum. He smacks his lips in satisfaction. "How good of Little Brother to share." Aiden slips his own fingers into Stiles' sloppy hole, eliciting a startled gasp from the boy, before feeding them to Ethan.

The twins take turns digging inside Stiles' channel, using their fingers to scoop out all Peter's cum. "Make sure Little Brother gets a taste!" they cry happily, stuffing Stiles' mouth with four filthy fingers. They moan in unison as they feel Stiles' tongue move against them, meekly cleaning their fingers.

"What a sweet little boy," Ethan coos.

Stiles is never sure what his brothers will have in store for him. Sometimes they like to test their strength, crawling up the rope holding him, swinging their cocks in his face for him to suck on. Sometimes Ethan likes to hang from Stiles' body upside down, legs gripping Stiles' head so he can suck Ethan's cock as Ethan holds up Stiles' legs while Aiden fucks him. Sometimes they pull the rope high and swing Stiles back and forth between them, each one fucking his little hole furiously before sending him back over to the other. Sometimes they'll use the ropes to raise up his hands and his feet, one twin lodged in his throat and the other deep in his ass.

"You want your big brothers to take care of you?" Aiden asks.

At Stiles' small, silent nod, the twins grin. Almost immediately, their fingers are back inside him, stroking his hot, tender channel. Four fingers quickly becomes five, then six, until suddenly Stiles' little hole is being pulled and stretched by eight slick, squirming fingers. Stiles' moans as they fill him and stretch him, as all those fingers are able to touch every inch of his insides.

"Are you ready for us?" they ask, as those fingers pull on his rimming, making him gape. "Are you ready, Little Brother?"

"Yes! Yes!" Stiles cries. "Need to be filled!"

"Don't worry," they sooth as the crowns of twin cocks pop through his hole. Ethan traces the crease of his thigh while Aiden licks behind his earlobe, calming the boy shuddering between them. "Big Brother will take care of you." A wet moan drags out of Stiles' throat as he feels both cocks thrust up, sheathing themselves in his tight heat.

All thoughts are lost after that. Stiles simply gives himself over to the rhythm of the twins, one pulling out while the other thrusts in. His head lolls back on Aidens's shoulder, his legs dangling over Ethan's arms. He lets his body be used as a ragdoll, his ass plundered for their pleasure.

The twins thrusts grow more and more frantic as they near their release, their grunts and groans more pained. Aiden reaches around and grabs Stiles' pink, bobbing cock, stroking it in time with their hips. Stiles' breathing is ragged as his overwhelmed by the dual sensations in his ass and prick. The fire in his belly boils over.

Three boys cry out in unison when, as one single being, they cum.

 

It's during the long, lazy summer afternoons that the girls fall upon him like wolves. Leading Stiles away from the tents and the noise, they drag him out to the open fields to bask in sun. They smile as they undress him, pulling his trousers and shirt away until he's bare, giggling and threading flowers through his hair. They are sweet and gentle with their caresses, and Stiles can do nothing but accept their small, wet mouths devouring his body. They touch him everywhere, reveling over his body's responses and laughing as they tease all they want from him. He is their pet, their little plaything, a toy for them to use for their pleasure.

Malia is always the first to tire of such simple pleasures, of soft kisses and teasing touches. As the other two hold him down, she swings a leg over the boy's lap, impaling herself on his straining cock. With a sigh of pleasure, she sinks down until her juicy cunt is completely filled. Malia is a Hooper and knows nothing better than the rhythm of her hips, and she uses this to her advantage, rolling and bucking and bouncing as that cock reaches up inside her.

Kira is a Fire Dancer, and her hips are no strangers to Malia's sensual moves. Always a little more shy than her friends, she often keeps her skirt on while the others go completely naked, but more often than not con at least be persuaded to lose her thin blouse. With breasts bared, Malia and Kira reach for each other. Their mouths meet as their fingers seek each others' tender nipples, plucking and pinching and tweaking.

Malia bends down, still speared by Stiles' cock, and takes one of Kira's nipples into her mouth, sucking hard. Fire dances down Kira's spine as she feels the pull of arousal from her wet pussy, aching with need. Mimicking Malia, she swings a leg over the boy's face, burying his nose in her ripe cunt. She squeals as his tongue fucks up into her, such a slippery, ticklish pleasure. Throwing her head back, sheet of black hair cascading down her bare back, Kira moans. She enjoys herself thoroughly as Stiles licks and sucks her puffy folds and slick clit, slurping up her juices as she wets his whole face.

Erica is always the last to join in, likes to prolong her pleasure with the visual of her friends. Eventually though, she isn't to stand being left out. Ever the Contortionist, one leg rests across Stiles' belly - opening her sweet pussy for his long, skillful fingers - where she can just tickle Kira's clit with her toes. Her head on the other hand, curls around one of Stiles' bent legs, the perfect position to use her own fingers to tease Stiles' asshole. She loves the throaty moans she can punch out of Malia by forcing Stiles to buck up into her with a dry finger thrust into him or a sharp bite to the flesh of his thighs.

Kira is always the first to cum. "Oh oh oh!" she cries, voice high and breathy as fire swirls in her belly. With a final high-pitched squeal, her pussy gushes, coating Stiles' face and chin. She likes to stay on his face as she comes down from her high, rubbing herself gently through the mess.

Malia cums second. With animal-like grunts and shouts she slams herself down Stiles' shaft, working her clit furiously with her fingers. Her body jerks and her cunt clamps down hard and she shivers through her orgasm. She's always quick to climb off Stiles, cunt quickly growing sensitive, and she pulls Kira down to the grass with her.

Then it's Erica's turn. Unlike sweet and gentle Kira, Erica isn't content to sit still on Stiles' face as he brings her tender wave after wave of pleasure. No, Erica **takes** her pleasure. With a hand fisted in Stiles' hair, his head is jerked up to meet her wet slit. "Make it good for me, slut!" Erica cries, grinding her cunt into Stiles' face.

Stiles gasps and sputters as he tries his best to keep up with Erica's demands. She's wild and hard, writhing on his tongue as she takes her pleasure. Her orgasms are just as violent and aggressive as she is, and she screams her pleasure as Stiles sucks hard on her clit. When she is finished she clamors off his face, leaving Stiles panting for breath, hard cock forgotten and neglected.

With an orgasm for each girl under their belts, they return to the sweet, gentle kisses and touches that started the whole affair. Stiles whines as he watches Erica and Malia each latch onto one of Kira's nipples, never liking when they play without him. Kira arches and squirms as they nurse, pulling and tugging at sensitive nipples, until she finally spreads her legs like they want her to.

With small fingers slicked with oil and hidden under her skirt, Malia and Erica take care to open up Kira's hole. Slowly and tenderly they stretch her as she moans and keens, unable to verbalize just how much they make her feel. When Kira is ready, Malia and Erica help her climb onto Stiles' cock, and with a long, drawn out moan she swallows him up.

Not to be left out, Erica and Malia flank Stiles on their hands and knees. As Kira picks up speed bouncing on his cock, small breasts jiggling, the two gorgeous cunts presented to him are plundered by his fingers, the girls' mouths ravishing Kira's empty pussy.

It never takes long for all three girls to cum again, Erica and Malia with strong fingers filling their cunts, and Kira with a cock in her ass, a tongue in her pussy, and a mouth on her clit.

With the three girls sated, it's finally time to take pity on their sweet pet. Three little mouths attack him - nursing his cock, suckling his balls, and tonguing his hole - until Stiles finally spurts across his belly with a shout. Giggling, the girls use their fingers to feed Stiles his cum. He's such a good pet.

 

Everyone knows Erica and Boyd belong to each other. Their love is aggressive and passionate and fraught with drama. They are a volatile couple, but they are in love.

Boyd prizes everything about his woman: her strength, her spirit, her independence. But sometimes the Strongman needs to take care of someone in a way Erica can't let him. Not ever willing to force Erica into a role she was unsuited for, Boyd instead takes care of Stiles.

"What a good boy you are," Boyd coos, one enormous hand stroking through Stiles' hair. Stiles looks up from where he kneels, eyes wide and innocent, lips stretched taut around Boyd's cock. "Daddy's so proud of you, so proud you were able to take me all the way down." He pulls out slowly, listening to Stiles cough and splutter and to the loud squelch he makes as his throat releases Boyd's dick.

"Thank you, Daddy," Stiles rasps, voice roughened by the abuse of Boyd's shaft. "Only wanna make you proud."

"I know you do, Baby Boy, I know you do."

Next to Boyd's impressive bulk, Stiles weighs almost nothing. The Strongman can lift him as easily as a rag doll and hold him tight against the side of the caravan. Stiles can wiggle and squirm and whine all he wants, but there is nowhere for him to go when Boyd holds him fast.

"Ready for me, Sweetheart?" Boyd asks while peppering the boy's face with kisses. "Are you ready for Daddy's big cock?"

Stiles whimpers, knowing what's to come. Boyd's cock is a monster, and he likes best to take the boy with no more prep than his well-oiled dick. He likes to see Stiles struggling to take him, likes his squirms and his moans and his tears.

"Shhhh," Boyd coos, quieting Stiles' choked off cries. He's only half way in, but Stiles is trying so hard to make his daddy proud. "Don't cry, little boy. Daddy's right here. Daddy just needs you to try a little harder. Can you do that for me?"

"Soooo big," Stiles moans, tears streaming down his face as his little asshole does its best to accommodate Boyd's girth.

"I know, Sweetheart. I know. But you can take it."

"I don't know. I don't know. So big."

Holding the boy still up against the wall, legs hooked over his elbows, Boyd slowly pushes in, inch after inch. "Oh God, oh God, oh God," Stiles chants. He feels like he's being split in two. By the time Boyd can fully seat himself, Stiles is sobbing, fat tears rolling down his face, ass stretched so wide.

"Look at that, Baby. You did it!" Boyd grins at the boy.

Stiles looks up at him with watery eyes, snuffling hard. "Daddy's happy?"

"So happy, Sweetheart. Daddy's so proud."

The struggle to take Boyd in is always the hardest part. Once he's managed that, the gentle, almost reverent fucking Boyd gives him - even with his monster cock - is easy. Eyes closed, Stiles lets himself drift away, soothed by Boyd's weight holding him up, by the smooth glide over his prostate, by the gentle rumblings of Boyd's voice as he praises him. There is no frantic fucking, no panting in exertion or screaming in ecstasy. Just slow, steady thrusts bringing them both to completion.

Afterwards, when he has pulled himself free and helped the boy back into his clothes, Boyd will hoist Stiles up into his arms and carry him across the field to the animal house, Stiles' sleeping quarters. Stiles will whine as he's gently lowered into the straw, but burrows sleepily and happily as the animals snuggle close, keeping him warm.

"G'night, Daddy."

 

Jackson is the only one who has never warmed to Stiles. Everything about the kid just makes him curl his lips back in a snarl, baring his teeth. He can't stand him and he certainly doesn't want to fuck him. That is, until he sees the kid on his knees early one morning, mouthing up and down Danny's prick.

Jackson sees red. Danny isn't his, and it isn't even that Jackson want Danny to be his - knows that eventually Danny and Ethan will figure out their feeling for one another - but he isn't going to let that kid have Danny either. Not without him. Jackson charges over, pulling out his own cock on the way. He's greeted by Danny's sweet, serene smile, dimples on full display, and welcomed gladly. Danny pulls the boy off his prick, saliva stringing between Stiles' swollen lips and Danny's wet cock, and offers Jackson a turn.

Fisting into the boy's thatch of hair, Jackson smushes his face into his crotch. Stiles mouths at Jackson's soft cock, licking and suckling it to full hardness. When he's ready, he guides Stiles' lips around his length and pushes in, all the way in his mouth and down into his throat.

"Careful," Danny warns gently, watching Stiles face turn red and his eyes water at the harsh treatment.

"Fucking slut can take it. Takes everyone else, don't he?" Jackson replies. He groans at the feeling of Stiles' muscles spasming around him, desperately trying to swallow. He pulls out quickly, a gasp wrenched from Stiles throat as he sucks in breath after breath. Jackson doesn't give him long to recover before plunging in again, loving the sight of this little bitch choking on his cock.

Danny never plays with Stiles on his own again. Any time he wants the boy, Jackson is there, ready to play. Danny never minds. Jackson is clever, where Danny is sweet, and he always comes up with the best ideas of how to play with their little slut. Jackson and Danny are Clowns, they love to play, and they have a whole closet of props at their disposal. Danny likes to dress the boy up and paint his face, parading him around in nothing but shadowed eyes and a flouncy skirt, little pink dick bouncing beneath it as they play with him. Jackson, on the other hand, likes to put the boy's hole to good use, seeing what kinds of things will fit up there: beer bottles and bat handles, Lydia's wax candles, Kira's fire sticks, the hilt of Isaac's swords, and the end of Peter's whip. "Let's see what we can fit up your dirty hole today!" Jackson exclaims with each new idea. And Stiles moans through it all - face flushed at the humiliation he feels at the pleasure of each new toy, little hole gobbling up anything it's offered.

While they play and experiment, giggling at their creations and the silly picture Stiles makes, Jackson and Danny always end their playtime with Stiles the same way. No matter what he has already taken, the last thing that stuffs his hole is their gold painted juggling pin. It's special to them, and they love seeing Stiles take it. The neck is the easy part, only the width of about two fingers, but it tapers quickly into something thick and hard. It takes a good amount of slick to get it in, but they're determined. Stiles howls as oiled fingers pull and prod and stretch his sore, swollen rim, but every time they manage to fit it in.

He makes quite a sight, their little slut - on his knees, ass high in the air, stuffed full with a juggling pin, flushed red face smushed into the grass.

"C'mon, slut. We know how much you like your ass stuffed full," Jackson goads. "Now get yourself off." Moaning desperately, too full and too dazed to verbalize anything, Stiles reaches a trembling hand under himself and strokes his hard, wet cock. Above him, Jackson and Danny take each other in hand, jerking each other off hard and fast, their pleasure a long time in coming. It takes almost no time at all for Stiles to come, wailing as his little hole clamps down on the hard plastic keeping him gaping. The distressed pleasure emanating from the boy below them always sets off the Clowns. Their mouths find each other for one sloppy, desperate kiss as they cum, spurting hot and wet onto Stiles' shoulders and back and hair.

With the boy slumped into the ground, Danny crouches down and gently removes the juggling pin. Light, soft hands sooth over Stiles' flanks as he whines at the sudden emptiness. One hand lifts Stiles' chin from the ground, guiding him to look directly into the sweet face of Danny. He grins widely. "Thanks for letting us play."

 

"Oh fuck, Allison. Fuck...I love you so much!" Scott grunts as he fucks into Stiles' body. Stiles is on his hands and knees, ass up and being used roughly by Scott while his face is shoved into Allison's wet cunt.

"Love you too, Scott," Allison pants out, legs spread in front of her and head thrown back in pleasure. "You're so good to me." Their hands meet, both gripping Stiles' hair, guiding his mouth to all of Allison's sweetest places.

This is the only position Scott ever take Stiles in. Allison will occasionally join in with the other girls, riding Stiles' cock and face without prejudice, but not Scott. Scott takes him rarely and only with Stiles' nose buried in Allison's pussy. Stiles is never quite sure what the two of them want from him. He's not even sure they realize he's there.

"Oh God, Scott, oh! His tongue feels so good in me. He gets it so deep. Oh oh oh!" Stiles' tongue aches, but he stretches it even further, trying to reach every crevice inside.

"He making you feel good, Baby?" With a CRACK! Scott lands a hard spank to Stiles' left cheek, making the boy jolt. It stings when Scott pulls his hand away, but he does nothing to sooth the offense. "His fat tongue gonna make your pussy gush?"

"Yes yes yes!" Allison cries. She lays all the way back, legs falling open even wider. Stiles pulls his head up just slightly to take a breath, but is shoved back down hard by two hands. "Don't stop. Oh God, Scott, don't stop!" Her back arches as Stiles is just able to insert two fingers inside, crooking them forward slightly, as he moves his mouth to the hard nub of her clit. He lets his tongue flick over it a few times, before taking it fully in his mouth and sucking hard. Allison screeches, both hands scrabbling in his hair to pull him even closer.

"That's right, Baby" Scott says, picking up the pace of his thrusting. Stiles always ends up with bruises from Scott's fingers and hipbones. "Love it when you scream for me."

"Fuck, Scott! Fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

"Do it, Baby. Want you to cum for me. Want you to cream on his face."

"Oh God. Oh God, Scott. Oh oh. Love you so much. Fuck, fuck I'm cumming. Scott, fuck, I'm cumming! Ohhhh!" Allison doesn't stop riding Stiles' face until she's spent, collapsing back with a blissful sigh at the intensity of her orgasm.

Scott is only a minute or two behind his love. "Fuck, fuck, fuck Allison. Fuck, gonna cum for you. Gonna fill his slutty ass up for you. Love you, Baby, love you so much. Fuck. FUCK!" With a loud grunt, Scott cums deep inside Stiles.

Scott is quick to pull out of Stiles, letting his cum drip down Stiles' perineum and balls. But Scott has better things to think of, throwing himself on top of Allison. "That was so good, Baby," he pants into her mouth. They kiss hungrily in a mess of lips, tongues, and saliva. Stiles is forgotten, left to himself if he didn't manage to cum on Scott's cock, in their desperation to once again pledge their undying devotion to one another.

 

Lydia is a special woman. From the moment she'd entered his life, Stiles has been half in love with her, equal parts terrified and awed.

Stiles is not the only one who's been deluded by half-baked romantic notions involving a life with Lydia. She's had both Jackson and Aiden, and even tried Scott on for a brief moment before discarding him just in time for him to fall for Allison. And everyone knows of the torch Peter carries for Lydia, a love they believe she reciprocates but will never act upon. Lydia is her own woman, fiercely independent after the life she's led, and Peter's love, however much appreciated, has no place in her life. Her childhood was spent shuttered away, her every move carefully planned and controlled by others. She was less than a person; chattel to be bought and sold. It was Peter, not her own hand, that set her free - a fact she will never forgive herself for - and though she may owe him her allegiance, he will never own her heart.

This sentiment was patiently explained to Stiles as well. She will never be his, she say. Stiles is sweet and good, and she appreciates the time he spends between her thighs, but she can never be his. She can never again be anyone's.

Stiles took the blow easily and has never tried for her again. She is a goddess and he barely a man. He is more than content to love her from afar, to worship at her alter, and taste the sweet nectar of her cunt. She is his Lady, his Mistress, and he her vassal. She will anoint him in her juices and he will be glad.

Lydia is nothing if not bold, and as such is the only one to take Stiles during a performance. She calls him to her tent, has him strip in the dim candlelight, and takes her time getting him ready. his hands are bound behind his back with a silk scarf, his eyes blindfolded. She has Stiles bend over her table as she inserts a thick, wooden phallus into his slick hole, pumping it slowly as the boy moans brokenly. Last, a thin leather cord is tied tight around his prick, pink and plump. When he is deemed ready, Stiles takes his place, crawling to her feet under the table, hidden from view by the drapes of the table and the silks of Lydia's skirts.

Everyone is fearful of the future, so Lydia's Fortune Teller is always in high demand. She reads palms and tarot cards as Stiles mouths at the plump folds of her pussy. He noses in deeper, breathing in the richness of her scent, and just teases her opening with his tongue, all while she gazes into her crystals and tea leaves, discovering the good graces and misfortunes that are to befall those fellows willing to part with a few coins. Lydia sighs and whimpers, jolts and squirms from the magic she calls on to fill charms and talismans and from the steady flicking of Stiles' tongue against her swollen clit.

Her customers marvel at how her magic affects her. "She's so brave," they whisper to one another, even as they shy away from standing too close. They start as they witness her gasp, her whole body tensing, before she moans out her release. Lydia's thighs are wet with her juices and she smiles serenely as she hands a new wife a fertility charm.

"Doing so good for me, Puppy," she whispers during a rare quiet moment, stroking her fingers through Stiles' hair. He wiggles at the praise, always so pleased to make his Lady happy. The movement of his backside jostles his plug, however, and he has to stifle a moan into Lydia's thigh as it brushed harshly past his prostate, little bound cock dripping onto the ground beneath him. She swats him hard in punishment, just as a new couple enter the tent. Not wanting to anger Lydia further, Stiles returns to his task with renewed focus and vigor.

On nights when Lydia calls for Stiles, he is kept on his knees beneath her for hours. His little cock weeps, his knees and wrists are numb, and his jaw aches, but still he continues to please. His face and her thighs are dripping with her juices, the result of release after release. He thinks of nothing but sucking and slurping, of the heady smell and tart taste, of his tongue searching and reaching for new folds to tease and explore.

As the peak of the night climbs higher, and her cunt becomes more and more sensitive, Lydia transitions from telling fortunes to communing with the dead. And as a Medium, Lydia is a true sight to behold. She wails and writhes as the spirits posses her, screams in tongues and tears at her flesh as they torment her. Her slick thighs clamp down on Stiles' ears, holding him fast as he's able to wring one more, two more, three more violent orgasms from her.

Finally, Lydia is spent. Her aching pussy can bear no more abuse and her tormented soul can host no more spirits. She collapses back into her chair, thighs finally releasing Stiles from their grip. He gasps for breath beneath her, sucking sweet air into his burning lungs.

Sated and relaxed, Lydia glides around her tent extinguishing all but a few candles and securing the entrance. Only when she is sure they won't be disturbed does she allow her pet to crawl out from under the table. The blindfold and wooden phallus is removed, and Stiles blinks up at his mistress, whining at the emptiness. A candle has sputtered and died on the table, and Lydia uses the sticky end to secure the phallus to the table. Satisfied with it's stability, she turns expectantly to her puppy.

"Well, go on," she encourages at Stiles' confused expression. "Get up there, Puppy."

Stiles is clumsy without the use of his hands, but he manages to hoist himself up from the floor to the chair, and from the chair to the table top. He looks up at Lydia, uncertain. With a patronizing smile she says, "Climb on, Puppy. That's for you. You want to cum don't you?" He nods hesitantly. "Well you better get to it."

Slowly and haltingly, Stiles manages to get himself into position. He hovers over the phallus, whining as his little hole mouths over the tip, but looks back at Lydia for approval. "That's right, Puppy," she coos, slinking elegantly into her chair. "Gotta work for it. Show me how much you want to cum."

Stiles moans thickly as he sinks down. While the rod had held him open for the past several hours, the slick used has long since dried. His hole opens easily enough, but the slide is far from smooth. But Stiles needs so badly to cum, his wet little cock a flushed, angry red. He works himself up and down, up and down, moaning and grunting and panting at the friction to his swollen rim and the abuse to his battered prostate. Lydia watches him indulgently and coos as her little puppy works himself so hard for her. She reaches out a hand and teasingly traces delicate patterns with her soft fingers all along his swollen prick.

Stiles howls. "Pleeeease!" he begs as tears well up in his eyes. "Please let me cum. Oh God, oh God, Lady. Pleasepleaseplease!" His thighs are burning with exertion and his little prick is weeping steadily. He doesn't know how much longer he can go on.

Lydia lets him beg a few minutes longer. She smiles, listening to his wild promises of devotion and desperate cries for mercy. Finally, when his cheeks are soaked with tears and his throat choked with sobs, she slowly unties the cord.

As if it was he being taken over by spirits, Stiles screams.

 

It has been a long day. The circus has been in town for a week and has another week planned, so there was no the hustle and chaos of packing or unloading. But still, Stiles has been on his feet (or his back) since dawn. Now, after his duties during the show, his time with Peter, and helping to tear down and lock up for the night, Stiles is exhausted. He stumbles, bleary-eyed, into the animal house, strips off his clothes, and collapses onto his makeshift bed of straw. The animals, too, are bedded down for the night, and he can hear their soft snores and purrs lulling him to sleep.

Just as his body settles, ready for sleep, Stiles hears a restless shuffle. He turns his head towards the sound, and looks up into two bright eyes blinking at him from the shadows. "Hey there, Big Guy," Stiles whispers. In the darkness, he can just make out the shape of a man shuffling cautiously towards him. "I'm here," Stiles continues. "All in for the night."

Derek, the Wolfman, almost never speaks. Most people were afraid of him, of the sharp fangs hidden behind his lips and the hard muscles bulging underneath his skin. And as can so often happen, that fear had turned to anger and cruelty. Long before he had been rescued by Peter, Derek had learned not to trust people, to keep to himself. He was closer to animal than man, had raised himself in the woods with the other wolves.

But Stiles is different. He's soft and open. Unafraid. He touches Derek softly and tenderly, speaks to him in kindness. Slowly, Derek has learned to trust the boy. Derek is not one to frolic with the other freaks of the circus. He doesn't join them for meals or trips into town. He won't sleep in the bunks with them, preferring the safety of the animal house. And so they leave him to himself, thinking of him as not much more than the other animals. None of them realize they share Stiles with him.

Derek crawls towards Stiles slowly. Stiles lay still, not wanting to spook his Wolfman. He lets Derek take his time, lets him look the boy over before deciding to touch. Derek's hands are rough, but he always does his best to stay gentle, keep his claws from marring Stiles' delicate skin. Derek likes touching that skin, likes dragging his hands over the curves of Stiles' muscles and the knobs of his bones. He maps out the contours of Stiles' face and brushed the fines hairs on his arms and legs. When he finally gets his fill of simply touching his boy, he lets his mouth make the same journey.

Derek whines, apparently finished with his tasting of Stiles' skin, and head butts the boy's hip. It takes Stiles a few seconds and several exasperated huffs from Derek to realize he wants him to turn over. Pillowing his head with arms, Stiles closes his eyes, surrendering himself to Derek's tongue sweeping along the swell of his calves.

Stiles is content with the life he has made for himself. He is happy to be Boyd's baby and the twins' little brother; he has a family now. He is pleased to live as Lydia's puppy, Peter's kept boy, even Jackson's slut. He has people who look out for him. The pleasure his body is able to give them will forever make him proud, give him a purpose. He has found his place. But what none of them realize, what he will never tell them, is that though they take him and use him, he will never belong to them. Not even Peter who saved him or Lydia whom he worships. One day he hopes to belong to someone, but not them.

Stiles is brought out of his reverie by a pained whine behind him. He looks over his shoulder to see Derek frowning at the bruises on his hips (Scott and Isaac, both extra rough today) and the lash marks on his cheeks (Danny and Jackson, having stolen Peter's whip). "I'm okay," Stiles assures him. "The boys had a little fun today." Derek lets out a snort of derision, but keeps his thoughts to himself. Thinking the conversation over, Stiles turns his head back around, but he gasps when he feels Derek gently nuzzle into his abused flesh. The Wolfman drags his lips over each bruise and marks, soothing and worshiping the hurts. Stiles knows it isn't rational, but he could swear he could feel the sting and ache lessen with each kiss. Stiles sighs into the touch, arching his back in an unconscious search for more.

Finished soothing the wounds in his flesh, Derek pries apart Stiles' cheeks to view his dusky hole. He wrinkles his nose at the dried cum that has oozed its way out tsks angrily at how raw and swollen he finds the rim. Even more gently than before, Derek lowers his mouth, bathing and cleaning Stiles' hole in long, wet licks. "Yesssss." Stiles hisses at the feeling. He can feel himself sinking into nothing but calm and bliss. He didn't know anything could feel like this. Derek takes his time working the little hole with his tongue, gentle licks around the rim and teasing dips inside. Without thinking, Stiles finds himself rocking back onto that tongue until it finally worms all the way one inside. All it takes is one slurping swirl and Stiles is cumming.

With the boy now clean and healed, Derek turns Stiles over one more time. On his back once again, Stiles instinctively spreads his legs in invitation, but Derek instead simply curls up into the straw and pulls him in close. Surprised, Stiles nudges the hard body next to him. "Derek? Don't you want to take me?" He knows he does, Derek's cock is hard against his hip. He reaches for it.

Derek growls low in his throat and bats the boy's hand away. "Derek?" Stiles tries again, but Derek huffs into his neck, shushing him. "Derek, I don't understand what you want from me."

"For you," Derek rasps, voice raw with disuse. Stiles' eyes widen upon hearing it, and he turns in the Wolfman's arms bringing them face to face.

"For me?" he asks, still not understanding what was happening.

Derek opens his eyes and grunts exasperatedly. "Please **you** ," he explains. "Make **you** happy." With that Derek closes his eyes again, nuzzling back into the boy's shoulder. Conversation apparently over

Stiles stills. He doesn't know what to do. No one has ever done something just for him before. No one has ever given him a moment's pleasure without demanding something in return. Not the family he ran away from as a boy, not the people he's traveled with along his lifetime, and not even those he shares his life with now. And yet, here is Derek, this wild Wolfman, who notices Stiles' hurts and cares for them and pleases him. Derek **sees** Stiles, not as something for him to take or to use, but as someone, someone who Derek wants to make happy. Stiles gasps as he feels his heart swell up in his chest. Tears well up in his eyes and his pulse races. He can't breathe. "Derek," he sobs as he shakes, doing his best to suck in air.

Derek is awake and alert in an instant, concerned by Stiles' distress. "Please," the boy begs, hiccuping and snuffling. "Please, please touch me." Stiles is overwhelmed by the safety and care he feels at Derek's gesture, and his body is the only thing he understands, knows how to use. "Take me. Need you inside me!" Derek frowns, unsure of what to do. He had decided not to take the boy when he saw his hurts from the others. They were always too rough, not thinking about how dear and delicate Stiles was. Stiles deserves pleasure for himself, which is what Derek gave him. He doesn't owe Derek a fuck simply for cumming. Derek hesitates, not wanting to upset or hurt the boy further, but at Stiles' desperate cries he relents.

He holds the boy close, kissing and licking his face, cleaning off any last traces of Lydia. When he takes the boy, it will just be the two of them, no remnants of the others. He will show him care and kindness. Stiles calms in his arms as Derek nuzzles his throat, licks into his underarm, and sucks a tight nipple. Stiles trembles, still overcome with emotion. "Please," he whispers. "Please, Derek."

Slowly, Derek sinks into him. He groans as Stiles opens up beneath him, swallowing him whole. They both sigh in relief when Derek fully seats himself, and Stiles moans in pleasure when Derek begins to thrust. Derek reaches out to take a hold of Stiles' face, holding him so they can look at each other. Derek keeps the pace of his hips slow and easy as he lowers his body onto Stiles, holding him close, touching every inch of him. He fucks Stiles gently and slow, using his mouth and his hands and his body to honor and venerate this boy he adores. With his tongue, Derek licks a long wet stripe up Stiles' throat.

No matter how many times he'd felt it on his body before, the touch of Derek's tongue to his skin makes Stiles shiver. It's just a tongue, but it touches him with such reverence, like Stiles is something more than the wretched orphan boy who lives by spreading his legs for everyone he knows; like he is something precious. Tears leak out of Stiles' eyes again as he realizes for the first time in his life that he is loved. He reaches out a hand to run his fingers over the bumps and hollows of his Wolfman's face. He thumbs over a fang and scritches through the coarse fur on his cheeks. With love burning in his eyes, he pulls Derk down for a kiss.

In the darkness, Stiles tightens his legs around his Wolfman's body. And knows it's to him he belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> So just to be clear, everything in this story is consensual, even the stuff that may be a little iffy (like with Boyd or Jackson). Stiles likes that he has a place in the group even if it's not in the performance. There is no talk of safety or limits or anything like that, that kind of thing doesn't quite have a place in a story like this, so just know Stiles was always willing and happy to be doing what he was doing.
> 
> Also, I didn't tag this as underage. In my head, Stiles is probably about 15-16, with everyone else being 18 and up, but he doesn't have to be and it's in no way implied, so I left it off so people can use their imagination for what suits them best.
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think, so comment away if you'd like. Or visit me at my fic tumblr: msemmyjones.tumblr.com


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